


Touches

by wand3rlust



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1953996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wand3rlust/pseuds/wand3rlust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky doesn't realize how much he missed human contact until now. A series of one-shot drabbles. Each chapter can be read independently from the others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First

Bucky can feel Sam tense up anytime he's out of his direct line of vision, but he tries not to let it bother him. He knows Sam is making every effort to show he truly believes in his progress and he probably doesn't even realize he does it. Bucky just hopes his own efforts to earn his trust haven't gone unnoticed. He knows it will take time for Sam to subconsciously let his guard down and Bucky is patient enough to let it happen. So, it comes as a complete surprise, when after a mission of tracking down some missing cargo and fighting off an unusual enemy Sam stands to his side and grips his shoulder reassuringly.

"Good call back there in the warehouse," says Sam as he squeezes and then let's his hand drop.

It’s the first time Sam has ever deliberately touched him and Bucky's so surprised at the unexpected contact that he can't stop the soft smile from forming on his face as he glances at Sam.

"Don't make it weird," Sam calls over his shoulder stepping away before Bucky even has a chance to say thanks.

At that Bucky laughs, "Pretty sure the giant metal spider already made this weird."

Sam actually snorts before he laughs outright and the tension that was there before eases. An immense sense of satisfaction Bucky hasn't felt in a long time washes over him.

 

 


	2. Distraction

Bucky prefers his runs in the evenings, but once in a while when he's not been able to sleep he'll run with Steve and Sam in the early morning. Bucky likes to pace himself even though he could keep up with Steve the whole time if he wanted to. Instead he runs with Sam a few laps and then maybe one with Steve and then back to Sam. This morning after his final speed lap with Steve he goes to meet up with Sam again, but Sam is already doing his cool down stretches by the time he gets back. If his eyes linger a moment too long to watch, no one but him will know it.

"Can't believe you ditched me," he says walking to the patch of grass where Sam is now sitting.

"Sorry man, ran outta juice. Afraid I didn't get as much sleep last night as I usually do."

Bucky's about to tease him about his night, but Sam holds out his hand in a silent request to be helped up. So instead he takes it pulling Sam to his feet.

Sam's hands are soft. Softer than anyone else he's ever met and he wants to ask him about it but decides it's probably weird and lets go as soon as Sam is all the way upright.

Steve ditches them both texting to say he had something come up and he'd meet them later, so Bucky joins Sam for his usual after-run breakfast. Sam makes them eggs, toast, and cuts up some fruit while telling Bucky all about his niece’s dance recital he went to last week. Bucky spends half the time distracted by Sam's hands, but if Sam notices he never says a word.

 

 


	3. Expectations

Bucky decides he likes texting better than talking on a phone and so he starts sending random text messages to Steve as he reads through several of the biographies about Steve, Captain America and himself and the other Howling Commandos.

Bucky: Gabe had 5 kids?!

Steve: Oh, yeah. One of his grandsons Antoine works for SHIELD actually. Sam runs with him on rainy days at the gym. I’ll have him introduce you.

Two days later a text from an unknown number appears.

> unknown: heard you needed a favor
> 
> Bucky: who’s this?
> 
> unknown: it’s Sam dude, thought you had my number.
> 
> Bucky: oh hey, guess not. I added you now. who said i needed a favor?
> 
> Sam: Steve. Said you wanted to possibly meet Antoine?
> 
> Bucky: oh yeah! that’d be great, if he even wants to meet me I mean
> 
> Sam: yeah of course, he was so excited, couldn’t shut up about it actually when I told him you wanted to meet him

Bucky’s not sure how to take that, he’s been hesitant to reveal publicly who he is because he knows so many people hold this idealized version of who Bucky Barnes is and he doesn’t want to shatter that image. Most people outside of SHIELD simply don't know he's alive. Anyone else besides Steve who knows him now, knows he was Winter Soldier. And so it's inevitable that he finds himself the reciprocant of pittying looks and wary glances from those who don't know him well. Antoine is SHIELD so surely he knoww a little about him now and whatever his grandfather had told him of who Bucky had bee. He wasn’t the Bucky of Howling Commandos time, but he wasn’t Winter Soldier anymore either and so he had no idea who Antoine might be expecting to meet. Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

His phone chimes.

> Sam: still there?
> 
> Bucky: yeah sorry i would like that. just don't let his hopes get too high, that's a lot to live up to ;)
> 
> Sam: you'll be fine. how about tomorrow? bring Steve, we’ll all go grab coffee, keep it light so you can make an exit if you need to
> 
> Bucky: thanks for that Sam.
> 
> Sam: don’t make this weird
> 
> Bucky: you're the one who wears wings for fun, this was already weird
> 
> Sam: low blow Barnes low blow

He laughs Sam's words like a kind pat on the back he needed. He knew then everything would be ok with Sam and Steve at his side. He hopes one day he’ll be half as good at knowing what other people needed to hear as Sam was.

 

 


	4. Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> additional warnings: alcohol consumption. nothing questionable happens.

Bucky's been staying in Steve's old apartment across the hall from Sharon. He helped fix the damage and everything. He knows Sharon’s there to monitor him the same as she had for Steve, but he doesn't mind since she’s one of the few people who doesn't walk on eggshells around him. Sometimes she brings over dvd box sets or books and once in a while even some take out.

Last night, however, she and Steve left for a mission in New York for a couple days so it had been decided Sam and Natasha would split their time checking in on him.

"We should go out tonight," says Natasha. She's lounging at the kitchen table with her feet propped up on the seat across from her flipping through a gossip magazine while Bucky washes dishes. "There's a new bar that opened up just down the street. It’s quiet and we wouldn't have to go far."

"Maybe," he replies rinsing a plate and setting it in the drying rack.

"We could invite Sam."

Bucky swallows hard and clenches his jaw nervously. He’s glad his back is to her so she can't see his face growing pink or the pulse in his neck quicken. He deliberately ignores the tease in her voice and takes a few deep breaths to steady his nerves. He’s been trying to ignore the feelings that come up anytime Sam is around or mentioned lately, but he didn’t know it had been so obvious. Then again, nothing much escapes Natasha’s super spy radar. "I'm sure he's busy and has other things to do on his night off from babysitting me."

"You know we don't think of this like that, right? We're looking out for you more than anything at this point. Fury will get there eventually and the monitoring will let up. Trust me."

The I know what it’s like is implied. He finds himself yet again thankful for Natasha's forgiveness and guidance. He's never met anyone like her and he doesn’t know where he’d be without her, doesn't want to know.

“Yeah okay,” he agrees.

“Yeah okay as in you understand we’re not your babysitters or yeah okay as in let’s go out?” she asks.

“Both?” he says wiping his hands on the towel hanging from the oven handle.

“Great!” she hops up from the chair clapping her hands together and eyeing him

“Don’t bother Sam though, let him have his night off,” says Bucky.

“Too late, texted him already. He’ll be there in an hour.”

“How -- You didn’t even know I --” he sighs.

“I had hunch,” she winks. “You’re not wearing that are you?”

He glances down at his faded jeans and t-shirt and shrugs.

“You’re definitely not wearing that," she decides shaking her head and tapping her index finger to her bottom lip. "You should wear that long sleeve burgandy red button down Steve gave you a few weeks ago. Makes your complexion look less pasty.”

“Okay _mom_ are you gonna lay out all my clothes for me?”

“Ew, don’t ever call me mom again,” she says deadpan and deadly serious. Bucky raises his hands in surrender with a shrug and after a beat she’s back to normal. “Now that you mention it though, those dark wash skinny jeans with the fading on the thigs makes your legs look great too, you should probably wear those,” and she’s back to smirking at him.

He shakes his head at her and turns to the hall toward the bedroom. “Why do you even care what I wear?” he shouts walking to the bedroom.

“Please, I’m not blind. You should tell him, you know.”

“I don’t have anything to tell. And no one to tell it to.”

“Whatever. Get dressed.”

\---

Sam's sitting at the bar half way through a beer by the time they arrive. His dark grey t-shirt stretches smoothly across his back showing the well formed curve of muscles earned from many hours of flight practice. Bucky would gladly stand in the doorway the rest of the night just watching him, but Natasha shoves him through the door instead.

They’re late because Natasha insisted on doing Bucky’s hair and getting it out of his face for once and he wasn’t about to deny Natasha anything after the stare down in the kitchen earlier. He figured it couldn’t hurt to let her try. How she managed to get his hair combed back and up was a complete, and slightly painful, mystery.

“Sorry we’re late, I was working on one of my pet projects.” Natasha says strolling up to the bar.

“Oh what poor soul now…?” Sam pauses when he sees what she’s done to Bucky’s hair and the surprised look on his face is what Natasha will later describe as completely fucked. (He will deny it of course.)  After a moment he nods with a sympathetic smile at Bucky. “Nice hair.”

“Shut up,” he says burying his face in his hand. This is mortifying. He’s never going to forgive Natasha.

Bucky’s about to climb up on a stool two down from Sam so Natasha will sit between them but she shakes her head at him with a defiant grin and hops up on the barstool to Sam’s right and points at the stool to Sam’s left. “Sit,” she commands and he glares at her behind Sam’s back. He’s going to get her back for this. Somehow some way. She will pay.

They order a couple beers to start things off. Sam mumbles something in his direction but the music from the jukebox is so loud he doesn’t understand. “What?” he asks. Sam laughs. Sam’s always laughing and smiling especially when ke knows Bucky is flustered which just makes things worse.

Then Sam leans over to Bucky’s ear and when he does their shoulders press together. “I said, better watch out, Natasha’s on a mission tonight," and he huffs a laugh onto his neck. Bucky can’t breathe at the contact, his fingers clenches tightly around the beer glass that, thankfully, is in his right hand. He blinks slowly trying not to let his eyes fall completely shut. He hadn’t realized until this exact moment just how desperately his body wanted human contact. He clenches his jaw again and tries to breath normally when Sam pulls away. _You have no idea_. Bucky thinks once he's collected himself. He shrugs, “What can you do?” and glares at Natasha. Sam turns to glance at Natasha and Bucky mouths _I hate you_ at her, but she only gives him a thumbs up and has such a smug look on her face he almost laughs.

“I thought you said this place was quiet,” Bucky shouts to her.

She shrugs innocently. “It was! Well, last week when Sharon and I came down, it was. Guess hump day is a little more rowdy.” She waggles her eyebrows at them both. At that she turns to the bartender, "Three vodka shots Mr. Bartender Brian!"

Sam holds a finger up. "One. One shot. That's it," he says waving his hand to cut off Natasha's protest. "Us civilian types have to work in the morning."

Natasha pouts her lip playfully, "Killjoy," she mumbles.

Brian brings the shots over placing them in front of all three of them. They're tall, double shots and Sam frowns at Natasha before knocking it back and orders a glass of water to follow it up with. Natasha orders two more shots for herself and Bucky. Bucky cringes a bit at the sting of alcohol as it burns down his throat but only about 10 minutes later it's effect are noticeable. His lips are tingly, his fingertips are tingly, he feels loose and warm and his brain has finally shut up with the million thoughts that had been running through it before. All he can think about is how amazing Sam is and what a great profile he has and how much he'd like to just lean on his arm right now. He grins lazily listening to Sam and Natasha debate whether or not classics like Indiana Jones should be remade. He leans in a bit closer wondering if he could get away with leaning on Sam.

Suddenly Natasha is behind him pulling at his sleeve. "Let's dance!" she yanks harder until he's practically falling off the stool. He grabs at Sam's shoulder to steady himself and is rewarded with an awkward smile from him that he really can't read.

He starts to babble an apology, but Natasha drags him by his elbow to where a few other people are dancing. The music is a blur of sound that Bucky doesn't recognize at all, but he doesn't really care either.

"Dude, be cool." Natasha scolds turning around to face him and grabbing his waist to pull him close into a dance hold.

Bucky pouts his face at her. "I am always cool."

Natasha pinches his waist."You're about as smooth as a gravel road, Bucky."

"Gravel roads can be fun," Bucky muses.

Natasha snaps at him, "Focus, Bucky, jesus."

"Hey you're the one throwing beer and shots at me non-stop," he grumbles. "I mean, I'm not complaining, feels nice," he slurs it a little. "Wait, how come you're ok?"

"Beer bottle trick." She says.

He raises his eyebrows waiting for her to explain. "Is that supposed to make sense?"

"It's... never mind, I'll explain later," she says waving her hand. " This is a disaster," she sighs, "I didn't think alcohol affected you super-soldier boys the same. Steve can practically drink Thor under the table."

"Welp, must've got the knock-off bootleg serum or something. Side effects may include: losing an arm, lapses in memory, and little to no super-metabolism, but hey at least I still have my face."

She whacks her hand into his stomach lightly, "That's not funny. And who let you watch daytime tv? You're not allowed to watch daytime tv anymore, that crap will rot your brain."

Bucky makes a face at her like he's about to point out the irony of that statement, but she pokes him hard in the chest, "Don't you dare make a joke about your brain or I will knock your ass onto this disgusting floor that probably hasn't been mopped properly in weeks."

He frowns a little. He knows she's right, it's just that joking about things feels natural, easy even. He knows he was the one to make jokes at his own expense back before everything was... complicated. He knows he'd try to diffuse situations with Steve and whoever he was itching to fight by making jokes and putting the attention on himself. So even now it still feels natural to do that. But now, now was so very different for everyone. It never diffused anything anymore and usually made things more awkward so he was trying to get better at not doing that. Natasha thankfully was good at reminding him when Steve or anyone else didn't have the heart to.

"Sorry Nat. Old habits," he explains.

She sighs, "I know."

They dance in silence, a slower song has come on now and she rests her head on his chest. It's the second time tonight Bucky realizes how much he misses being close to people. He hugs her and rests his chin on top of her head.

"You should just tell Sam you like him," she blurts out into his chest.

"Yeah yeah," he agrees knowing protest is pointless. "I'm working on it."

"Well, speed it up. You two are making me sick. He likes you too, you know."

"And how am I supposed to know that?"

Natasha groans and bangs her head against his chest like it's a desk, "You two are so frustratingly oblivious. You are so wrapped up in your own feelings you can't even see how much Sam moons over you when he thinks you're not looking. And he's even worse! He's so convinced you're not ready for a relationship, let alone something with him, that he refuses to acknowledge his own feelings for you or that you turn as red as your shirt anytime you're within a 10 mile radius of him. I'm half convinced I'm going to have to lock you two in some abandoned warehouse for a night... I don't even know why I'm telling you all this."

"You're not actually going to do that though are you? The warehouse thing?"

Natasha pulls back and grins but says nothing. She grabs his arm and pulls him back to where Sam is sitting, who's got a bemused look on his face. He's not drunk either and Bucky kinda hates him for it.

"Sam," she says pointedly, "I've got to go meet Clint, so I need you to walk super-lightweight here home. Think you can handle it?"

"Pretty sure I'll manage," he grins at the both of them.

"Good. Play nice boys."

Bucky pipes in, "I'm always nice." Sam tilts his head back and laughs hard at that and Bucky's pretty sure he'd keep doing whatever it takes to get him to laugh like that always.

Natasha rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "Call me tomorrow," she says to neither one in particular and kisses both their cheeks before turning on her heel.

"You were joking about that thing earlier right Nat?" Bucky calls after her.

She doesn't even turn around strolling out the door, bell tinkling behind her.

"What thing?" Sam asks.

Bucky almost starts to explain but he'd have to explain a lot more, so he shakes his head side to side. "Nothing," he grins.

"Come on, let's get you home," Sam says putting an arm around his shoulders. Bucky wraps his left arm behind Sam's back at his waist leaning into him and allows himself this one small moment of comfort.

Stepping off the elevator, Bucky digs his keys out of his pocket sorting through the array of other keys. He misses being able to keep a spare outside the door like he and Steve used to. The alcohol is starting to wear off some, but he's still a little unsteady on his feet and feeling tired so attempting to put the key into the doorknob is proving to be more of a challenge than he expected. Plus, Sam smells so good it's distracting him from doing two things at once.

Sam huffs a laugh behind him and snatches the keys out of his hand. "You're hopeless," he mumbles.

Bucky turns to lean against the door, his head is groggy, but he can't help letting himself stare at Sam again, willing the courage to say what he wants to say.

Sam holds a key up, "This one?" he asks.

Bucky nods and Sam puts the key in, but doesn't turn the knob. He's so close Bucky can feel the warmth of his body still at his side. Natasha's probably right about his face being as red as his shirt.

"You, uh," Sam pauses looking at him expectantly, "probably shouldn't lean on the door unless you want to fall after I open it," he explains when Bucky doesn't move.

"Oh, Right!" Bucky laughs, he hadn't even realized, but now he wishes he had just so he could have an excuse to grab onto Sam. He heaves himself off the door and stands behind Sam as it swings open at the turn of the key.

Sam stands there not stepping into the apartment, then looks back at Bucky with that same expectant look from before. "You alright?" he asks.

Bucky nods. "Yeah, after you,” he waves his hand to the door.

Sam shuffles his feet and rubs the back of his head looking down for a second. "I really should get home." Sam say, "I mean, you're good right?"

"Stay." Bucky blurts out. His heart is pounding. He figures if this all goes terribly wrong he can just pretend it never happened tomorrow.

Sam double takes and looks so surprised Bucky almost starts to regret saying anything. "Uh, Buck," he says finally, "that's not a good idea."

Bucky grins distracted momentarily at his use of Buck, it feels good, it feels solid and familiar, it feels like a bridge to something new. "It's a great idea," Bucky says stepping closer but Sam steps back clearly uncomfortable now. This makes Bucky want to kiss him even more, but he knows better. "I mean, not like that," Bucky explains waving his hands. "Well, a little like that," he admits rambling now, and laughs knowing he's going to kick himself for this tomorrow, "but I mean, just stay. Sleep on the couch. Just stay. We can talk about that that," he emphasizes, "tomorrow."

"No funny business?"

"I'll go straight to bed," he promises. "Please. Just stay or I'll lose my nerve tomorrow and pretend this never happened. Unless that's what you want..." he trails off.

"No." Sam shakes his head.

"No, you won't stay or no that's not what you want?"

"No," Sam sighs and his nostrils flare nervously as he breathes in a deep breath before looking straight into Bucky's eyes. His eyes dart side to side and he honestly looks just as scared as Bucky feels. "I don't want you to pretend this never happened. I just need to know this isn't just... some random drunken thing," he admits looking at his feet now.

Bucky swallows hard then grins and wants to tackle him right then and there, but he remembers what he promised only seconds before. No funny business. "Okay," he feels his grin grow wider even if he didn't think it was possible and he shoves Sam through the door and locks it behind them both.

"Thanks Sam," Bucky says running a hand through his hair after he hangs his keys on the hook by the door.

Sam nods plopping down onto the couch. "I'll be here if you need anything," he says fighting off a yawn.

"Night," Bucky smiles over his shoulder walking towards his room.

"See you in the morning." Sam says drowsily, but Bucky can hear the smile in his voice too.

Tomorrow will be a good day, he decides, and then he sets his alarm to get up a little early so he can surprise Sam with breakfast and coffee.

 

 


	5. Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: minor character death mention.
> 
> Just as a clarification: Though it may seem like it, this chapter does NOT actually take place directly after the last. I like to imagine this is at least a year, probably more, after the last.

Bucky wakes with the soft chime to his alarm clock on his phone, 8:17 a.m. He likes to set his alarm at odd intervals so he doesn't get used to waking up at any one specific time. Though it’s never too early since he's not much of a morning person, but not too late either. By the time he gets up, both Steve and Sam are almost always gone except for on weekends so he has the house to himself.

He adjusts his sweat pants that have gotten a little twisted up overnight, but doesn't bother throwing a shirt on. He walks into the kitchen, pours himself a cup of the coffee that's only mildly warm and heats it in the microwave for a few seconds.

He stops short walking into the living room, startled. Sam is laying on the couch face toward the back cushions, his knees are tucked up and body curled in tight. He's not asleep though, eyes just staring off blankly into nothing.

"Sam?" he says. No response. "Sam?" he tries again, still nothing. He sets the coffee cup down and grabs the large vase from the end table holding it up defensively. He looks over to every window, no signs of forced entry. He checks back over his shoulder to the door, all looks normal there as well and he inches closer to Sam. There's no blood, no signs of trauma, no visible wounds. He kneels down and switches the vase to his left hand and presses his right softly to Sam's face. Still warm.

Bucky exhales in relief and that seems to snap Sam out of whatever had it's hold on him. He looks up into Bucky's eyes and then they dart to the vase in his left hand still being held up  defensively. Bucky lowers his hand, "Sorry, sorry!" and sets the vase on the coffee table behind him, "I thought you were hurt."

Sam takes a deep breath. "Sorry Buck," he whispers and then his face crumples, his bottom lip is quivering and a tear falls as his breathing gets a bit ragged.

Bucky has no idea what's going on or what to do. "Sam, what's -- what do you need?" His hand hovers over Sam's shoulder, he wants to comfort Sam but he doesn't want to freak him out either.

Sam sits up, sniffs sharply and wipes his face with a frustrated groan. "Just sit with me, okay?" he motions to the now empty couch cushion.

Bucky nods and sits as Sam scoots himself a little further down and lays his head onto Bucky's outside leg.

Sam grabs Bucky's hand and lays it across his chest and intertwines his fingers of both his own hands on top of his.

Bucky sits like that for at least an hour, not moving at all. Sam drifts off asleep and Bucky watches over him wishing he knew what else he could do or what had upset Sam this much. After a while Sam wakes and that sad look crosses his face again though not quite so bad this time. Sam excuses himself to the bathroom and Bucky takes the opportunity to stretch, return the vase to the end table and bring his still full coffee cup back to the kitchen.

When Sam comes back in he wraps himself around Bucky's back in a tight hug. "Thanks," he whispers, voice hoarse and dry. "My..." his voice cracks and he takes a deep shaky breath, "my mom died."

Oh. Shit. Bucky turns to face him and brushes a hand along the side of Sam's face wishing he could will the pain away. "I'm so sorry," he says at a complete loss for anything else to say.

Sam nods clenching his jaw and swallowing hard trying not to cry. He wraps his arms around Bucky's waist pressing himself as close as he can. "Just... stay close."

Bucky nods, "Of course. Anything you need."

 

 


End file.
